


Quiet

by lalasagna



Series: Quiet universe [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Trans Hinata Shouyou, implied sexual activity but it's not actually in the fic, kags likes milk, so self-indulgent because apparently everything i write is self-indulgent, the daisuga is mentioned a few times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalasagna/pseuds/lalasagna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of quiet moments between the two throughout the course of their relationship. Quiet not in the literal sense of low voices, but in the ambiance of hushed whispers and gentle stares, the aura of tender kisses and fond caresses, the atmosphere of harmless bickers and soft smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering as to why this sounds familiar, I posted the first two fragments a short time ago and then decided to just finish it and upload it in one chapter. Another Train Wreck by Yours Truly
> 
> 2.15.16: edited some parts because im a poop who doesnt proofread and also to get out of doing responsibilities ayyy

 

Dust falls from the sky in tune with a slow unheard ballad. It no longer looks annoying, but perhaps that has less to do with the dust and more to do with the radiant aura from the boy beside me. I move my gaze from the sky to the ground, to where our feet are close to each other.

He is staring at the bright sky, hot sun and a litter of small clouds. I’m not certain what he’s thinking of, but the small smile on his face means contentment, in contrast to the large passionate smile in the volleyball court. It’s fascinating to see the complexities in his personality, something I would have never expected before we met at Karasuno.

He breaks the silence. “Did you mean it?”

I look at him and he maintains his stare at the sky.

He continues, “That we’ll go to Nationals together? And then Japan? And then university?”

“Of course,” I say, then add “dumbass.” for good measure.

He argues against the insult, but his eyes are shining. I reach out and take his hand quietly. He hums a soft tune, pleasant against the ambiance of the sun. After a few seconds, he puts his head on my shoulder, leaning into me, enveloping me with warmth. We stay there for a while, a quiet moment after a loud one. For some weird reason, it felt apropos.

The sound of the ball slapping against the floor resonates in my mind, once, twice, thrice. I clench my eyelids tight. It was on our side of the court. We lost. Once upon a time, I would have shouted at my teammates for everything they did wrong, but now, I know that we all wanted to win and that they regretted their mistakes as it is. I respect whatever decision they will make to improve and I know they respect mine.

Hinata begins to snore quietly and I adjust our position so he won’t shout at me later for making his neck hurt. The tenderness of the moment makes me want to puke, but it also made me want to fall asleep with my limbs tangled with Hinata’s and our faces and chests close to each other. Either one would work, but for now, I lean into Hinata until I could smell the faint smell of oranges. I wrap my arms tighter around his stomach. For now, I stay like this.

 

“I wouldn’t mind.” I say, trying to hide the way my heart was thumping against my chest by clutching the milkbox in my hand a little tighter

Hinata smiles, big and relieved. “What that supposed to mean, idiot? You either want to or not.”

“I said I wouldn’t mind, didn’t I, dumbass?” I bend down to pick a remnant of meat from his face.

He looks up to me, silent for a moment. Then he turns his head and slows his pace, a small pebble in the path catching his attention. It’s white against the dark gray concrete, contrasting it nicely.

“But if you don’t wanna go out with me, just tell me.” He says.

“Are you stupid? It’s fine,” I say, stopping myself from grabbing his dumb head.

He walks beside me, close enough for our hands to bump into each other every step or so, but far enough that I can’t see his face, just his hair in the soft light of the setting sun. I notice its almost golden hue, finding myself enamored in his hair for hardly the first time. He peeks at me from below it.

“I like you.” He says firmly, as if it was “Volleyball is the best sport in the world.” Or “Apple is a fruit.”

“Good.” I say, taking his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers.

However, he’s not done. He’s Hinata like that, standing his ground, always fighting for what he wants. He would challenge anyone head on. Whether the topic is volleyball or dating is irrelevant to his approach. His eyes seem brighter as he looks into my eyes directly. Straightfoward.

He asks, “Do you like me?”

“I’m going out with you, aren’t I?” I say, looking back at him.

He bites his lip. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so cute. He makes a lot of annoying habits look cute, I realize. Slow conversations like this were rare in Hinata’s presence. Our back and forths would usually feature passionate debates about obscure cartoon shows or zealous competitions wherein we would out to test our creativity in insult making. However, I don’t mind the leisurely pace if I could see him act so nervous and fumbling.

It isn’t the same as him before a big match. That nervousness is loud and usually reveals itself in shaking legs and puking. This quiet apprehension, in the meanwhile, is gentle and full of pink cheeks and tender smiles at the ground. I walk closer, appreciating the gentle caress of the wind against my hair.

I think to myself, this is nice. I think, Hinata’s hands are firm and calloused and feel familiar against mine. I think, I could get used to this.

 

“Idiot, come here.”

Hinata comes closer tilting his head, food particles littered around his mouth. I bend down, wiping them off. He’s staring up at me as I finish and he suddenly pulls at my collar and kisses me. I think of slowly cooking soup as I move my lips clumsily against his. I’m not used to it yet, but I don’t mind learning. He pulls away but stays only about an inch away, his exhales tickling my lips.

“You could’ve just told me,” he says, only a little louder than a whisper.

I lean forward and kiss him, just a little. “You would’ve just made a mess.”

I’m glad that my parents are both out because although I’m pretty sure they know that there’s something going on between Hinata and I, I imagine it won’t be a pleasant experience to watch your hormonal teenage son making out with his boyfriend in an empty house. The thought makes me cringe for a moment before my full attention is redirected to Hinata whose eyes seem to grow bigger and more beautiful every day.

He moves and kisses the corner of my mouth. “I would have _not_! Thanks for the faith, supportive boyfriend.”

I decide I like to hear him call me his boyfriend and bring him closer. He sighs and leans on me a little. He flutters kisses around my cheekbone, hands around my neck. I kiss his nose and he gives a little giggle that’s so adorable I want to hit his face with a volleyball, which isn’t something I _haven’t_ done but the nearest volleyball right now is at least ten feet away and my current position is too snug to leave.

“I like you a lot.” He proclaims as if he has just thought of it. “More than milk likes you, which is like zero because it’s an inanimate object.”

“Milk is a healthy substance. You should try it sometime.” I say. “Everyone should.”

“Gross.” Hinata says, crinkling his nose for dramatic effect.

He rubs his nose against my cheek pleasantly. It feels nice, I think. The feeling reminds me of cotton candy for some reason.

“ _You’re_ gross.” I retort, brushing my fingers through the messy orange mop he calls his hair.

He exhales and runs his fingers up and down my back. “No, it’s you.”

He kisses me before I can tell him that he’s the real gross person between us. He parts his lips and I run my tongue on the back of his teeth and he makes a guttural sound from his throat. His tongue stubbornly pushes against mine, because he never backs down without a fight and at least three noisy not-very-well-thought-of arguments. Of course, he can’t really talk much with my tongue in his mouth so I imagine he is trying to make do with just smashing his mouth against mine.

Somehow, his hands make its way to my arms, gripping them tight. I remove one of my hands from his hair to cup his face and he accidentally bumps his nose against mine, rather hard. We pull away, rubbing at our noses.

“Okay, ow.” He says. “Sorry.”

His lips are red and there’s a bit of saliva on his chin and I’m amazed at how he attractive he looks. It remains a delightful surprise whenever I look at Hinata, although I’ve had the realization that he’s really hot at least a hundred times before. I take his mouth again, trying to be gentler this time, but it ends up kind of crooked and we end up pulling away again.

“Kissing is hard,” He says and I nod in agreement. “Want to order pizza and watch that volleyball movie?”

Although I know that we’ve watched “that volleyball movie” at least three times in the past and I’m pretty sure Hinata is just trying to sound casual about it because he loves this movie so much he knows every line by heart and obviously knows the title, I don’t point it out. He’s still nervous about things like this and I understand because I am too. I haven’t really dated anyone seriously before; I know Hinata hasn’t as well, so we’re still trying to figure how things work.

“Yeah.” I say. “Do you want any milk?”

He rolls his eyes at me and makes a disgusted sound before picking up the phone. I trudge to the fridge and pick up one of the three milk cartons and the soda I buy for Hinata because he’s over so much and because he never wants to drink milk, which I obviously take as a personal and social offense because milk is good for anyone and literally has no disadvantages. I pour myself a— _very healthy and delicious thank you very much—_ glass of milk and watch Hinata talk to the pizza place. I put back the milk and walk back to the living room.

“Hao-pe you have a good day, Hao-san!” Hinata is saying, probably having made friends with the cashier to the point wherein he can make really bad puns about their name.

I roll my eyes, making a puking face, and he kicks my foot. He says goodbye then settles back to the sofa, half-sitting and half-lying on me. He hums and draws penis patterns on my chest.

“Are you actually five years old?” I say.

He crinkles his nose and makes a peeved face, but it ends up just looking more adorable than the intended threatening. Naturally, I pinch his ear to rile him up even more and he tries to threaten me, but before he can call me “Bakageyama” I’m kissing him again and he’s silent, probably because he literally can’t talk because I’m covering his mouth but I like to think it’s also because I just have this effect on him. It would be unfair if I was the only one affected after all.

Time flies by fast and by the time the doorbell rings, I have my hands on his butt (thank the universe for Hinata Shouyou’s perfect ass) and he has his hands under my shirt, slightly tickling but mostly caressing. We pull away slowly, taking deep breaths, and have a mental staredown as to who has to get up and although we never really made official rules, Hinata gets up with a huff and walks to the door. I have the urge to pull him down again because he is exaggerating his walking movements, protruding his butt even more than he does normally.

I plop the disc in while he makes friends with the delivery guy and think to myself, hey this is nice. I think, we’re not really sure what we’re doing but it’s nice.

 

I wince at the squishy sound my shoes make against the damp ground. Hinata jumps around, getting dirt on his legs and on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I stay still in my position for a while, staring at Hinata smiling softly at the cold. The way he likes the cold comes as a surprise for he is anything but cold, bright and warm, but it isn’t an unpleasant scene.

“Kageyama, there’s a frog, look!” He says. “Come here!”

I walk slowly and follow where his finger is pointing to. A small dark moss colored frog blinks up at me and Hinata makes a small squeak.

“It likes you!” He says.

I stare at it curiously. Animals don’t really like me. They usually just run away whenever I try to come near them, but this tiny frog no bigger than my hand stares up at me, indifferent. It gives a small _croak_ and hops on a small pebble. I tap my finger on its head and it stays put.

“I like you too.” Hinata says, more of a murmur than a statement.

“Do you want me to tap your head too?” I say, raising my brows.

“No!” He shouts. “Ugh. Rude Bakageyama!”

I roll my eyes and wrap my left arm around him. He’s warmer than I expected, but then he’s always warm anyway. He appears satisfied nuzzling his head against my shoulder pleasantly. I look back to the frog, now a few hops away, seemingly disinterested in our exchange. It makes a small croaking sound and continues to leave, its legs extending and contracting in quick movements.

“Were you jealous of a frog just now?” I say.

Hinata huffs. “No! You’re just a jerk.”

I smile, ruffling his hair just enough to make it a mess. “Idiot.”

We stay like that for a while, crouched down and close to each other under the dark sky. It occurs to me that this might be the last training camp we might ever attend in high school, since we graduate in less than three months. I look at Hinata and focus on the ways he has changed from that bubbly and noisy first year I used to dislike. His legs are more toned and his hair is a little longer. He grew a few inches too, but I suspect that he has already reached his maximum height. His face is a little different, and his arms and hands are consistently sporting new bandages from overexertion. His eyes are still the same though, fiery and intense, an attitude he has only fostered throughout the years.

He is looking back at me, watching me observe how he looks. It’s not often that we take the time to think about differences, usually busy with volleyball and not failing high school and more volleyball and maybe a little fighting. Okay, maybe a lot of fighting, but always the ones that end in half-hearted arm jabs and tickle fights.

“I like you too.” I say quietly, but I know he hears it because he wraps his arms around my waist, probably getting his shorts dirty, but I don’t think he cares.

“A lot.” I add and he nods, not speaking under the blinking stars.

 

I help him put his bags in the trunk of my car, groaning at the weight, especially after thinking about how we’d have to unpack these later. He seems to be deep in thought as he hauls a suitcase of clothes in. Soon enough, we’re done and I wave to his mother and Natsu as I walk back to the driver’s seat. I’m sure he wants to have a few words with her before they leave. I feel calmer than I did earlier when I left my own home. Hinata had given me a weak smile when I arrived and quietly pulled me toward his things. I briefly wonder if my two cartons of milk will be enough for a week, but the thought is interrupted by the thought of Hinata complaining about my milk. It’s not my fault that it’s a delectable and healthy substance.

The door opens and shuts a few minutes later and Hinata wipes at his eyes. I don’t comment on it, because I did the same when I drove out of my parents’ house. I start the engine.

“Kageyama?” He says.

I turn to look at him as he presses his lips against mine, not forceful and intense like he usually did, but calm and emotional like a smooth stream in an undisturbed forest. I move with him, familiar with the soft flutter of his eyelashes against my cheek and the smell of oranges from his hair. He pulls away and inhales.

“Good?” I ask.

“Good.” He answers.

I remember how a week ago he jumped at the prospect of leaving home to be free and independent, but now I know too well his feeling of missing a place you’ve lived in for your whole life.  I press a kiss to his forehead, trying to convince him that it’s going to be okay.

“What if it’s horrible?” He says as I leave his house’s driveway. “What if everyone is terrible and mean and _Kageyama what if they don’t like volleyball?”_

“They have one of the best volleyball teams in Japan and you know it. That’s the reason we’re going there.” I say.

I recall us listing down each university that was near enough so we could go home via car but far enough that our parents wouldn’t visit us in our shared apartment, because of things we didn’t want them to see. We narrowed down the results to the ones with a good volleyball team and then rewarded ourselves with pizza after finding the best option.

He still groans. “What if they don’t understand my...”

It is eventual in a long-term relationship that you get used to each other so much that you could tell what they wish to say when they can’t. I know at that moment that Hinata was worried about how people would react to his transgender status and I tell him what I always do when he gets anxious about it.

“Then I’ll beat them up. Besides, it’s none of their business anyway, so you don’t have to tell them.”

He frowns. “You can’t just beat everyone up!”

“If they don’t want to get beaten up, everyone can just stop being assholes.” I counter. “You want some burgers?”

“This isn’t the time for Mcdonalds, Kageyama.”

I pull up in the drive thru anyway and try to order among Hinata’s shouts of “ice cream!!!” and “DID YOU TELL THEM TO REMOVE THE PICKLES I HATE PICKLES ON BURGERS I DON’T KNOW WHY ANYONE ACTUALLY LIKES THEM IT TASTES HORRIBLE—“  He makes friends with the girl in the window and they talk about her cat and how it keeps shedding on her couch but she still loves it and I roll my eyes as Hinata makes a squealing sound. He waves goodbye enthusiastically as he digs into his pickle free burger.

“Why are you even worried about the people there when you literally do things like that two hundred times a day?” I say.

“But! They might not have cute cats like she does!” He protests and we both know that that is a weak argument.

We bicker about other arbitrary things the rest of the way, but it’s soft, weathered after years of getting used to each other. He kisses me on the cheek and I almost run over an old businessman and he laughs as the man shakes his hand at me and I think, some things never change.

 

Our first fight is quiet and seething.

We sit at a random fastfood place and exchange sarcastic comments about each other’s behaviour. Neither of us are sure when it started or why, but by the third word, we abandon our food and it grows cold under our chilly remarks.

“Why can’t you just think about what I want as well!? It’s not all about you!”

“I’m not the one making selfish decisions all the time! Who the fuck kept pestering me to practice volleyball when I had a big exam coming up?”

“This isn’t even about that! I can’t believe you’re bringing this up!”

 I can’t stop myself from commenting on his lack of responsibility over the apartment and he growls his distaste for my horrible cooking skills. I don’t miss his remark about me dedicating a big chunk of our budget on milk. I know most of our points don’t even matter that much, that they are easily resolved, but I’m mad and frustrated. I can’t clear my head.  I don’t want to look at his face as he starts pointing out my disinterest in public displays of affection.

I stand up quietly and I can feel him fall silent as he watches me turn away. I leave the restaurant, not looking back. The night breeze is cold against my back and I call up an old friend. Sugawara arrives by my fourth bottle and doesn’t ask me about Hinata. He just looks at me and starts talking about his plans before graduation and about Daichi. I nod, too tired and drunk to reply.

I briefly congratulate myself for making such a good decision with who I called to watch over me, but that is quickly washed away by the thought of Hinata’s wet eyes as I yelled at him.

I sleep in his and Daichi’s extra bedroom, already missing Hinata’s hair against mine. I don’t want to go back though and I don’t think I could even find my way in my current condition. I check my phone and make twenty-two drafts that I will never send and cry against the pillow. I know we both made mistakes, but I still feel bad about my complete disregard for what is important to Hinata.

The morning after, I walk back with a severe headache and find Hinata curled up in the sofa, covered in my favorite sweater and I sit on the floor in front of him and wonder how I could have ever wanted to make him sad.

 

I say the three words first.

He is cooking breakfast while wearing my shirt. All my shirts look big on him and it looks ridiculous, but it also gives me this bubbling feeling in my stomach. Sunlight is pouring out of the large window in front of him and makes his hair shine. A soft tune is coming out of his mouth, sounding familiar and pleasant. The scene stills something inside me, even with my sluggish state. I stand still.

“Have you _heard_ of the existence of clothes?” Hinata says, continuing to poke at whatever was on the pan.

“I love you.” I say, suddenly, all at once.

He turns to look at me, as surprised as I am. We both know I’m not the best at words, learned from both experience and second hand stories, so it’s a surprise to both of us that I say them first. He always did things first before me in the context of our relationship, but it doesn’t feel wrong to be the first one to do this. A slow smile makes its way across his face and his eyes crinkle the way it always does when there’s a leisurely build to his smile. I walk closer, closing my eyes and taking the hand not on the pan in mine. The feeling it brings with it is familiar and lovely.

“I love you too.” He whispers, his voice gentle.

“Mmm...that’s good.” I say pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It feels so domestic that I want to start up an argument, but I can’t bring myself to when Hinata smells so good along with the aroma of the food cooking. He continues humming, seeming brighter now. I walk to get milk and wonder when I got used to this, not only simply living together, but also helping each other through everything. It seems like a while back when we were just teammates in Karasuno, only wanting to improve and win and nothing else. We still want to improve and win as much volleyball games as we can, but now there’s something else, something more.

He puts all the food in one plate, knowing that we would steal from each other’s plate anyway if they were separated. We begin to eat, lazily bringing up topics until we end up just staying quiet, minds lidded with sleep. I open the door for him after I put on clothes and Hinata shrugs into an old slightly tight shirt and we walk with soft conversations until our paths separate. He then pulls me down and kisses me softly, affectionately. He runs off, slowing down and turning around—still walking, backwards this time—and shouts, “See you later, dumbass!”

 

“Oh, Kageyama!”

I turn around, finding Hinata with a slightly taller blue-haired guy walking toward me. I wrap my arms around myself, regretting being too lazy to grab a coat before leaving.

“Where ya going?” Hinata asks, tilting his head a little, a small act I’m never sure if he’s aware of.

“Milk.” I offer, slightly raising the plastic bag in my hand.

“Gross you went out for milk but wouldn’t eat lunch with me?” He says, crinkling his nose.

He looks nice like that, I think. He’s wearing the hat he spent a straight five minutes staring at before I asked him if I wanted to buy it for him and he looked at me with such shining eyes that I had to look away as I went to the cashier. His jacket was _my_ jacket until he started wearing it and wouldn’t give it back to me. Of course, I put up a fight that I eventually let him win, not wanting to admit that it looks better on him anyway.

I roll my eyes at him. “Milk doesn’t kick me in the head.”

“I was asleep!!!!” He protests, then seems to remember his friend. “Oh, Kageyama, this is Arata. I met him at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. I think I mentioned him a few days ago!”

“Nice to meet you!” Arata says. “Uh, Shouyou, is this your...”

Hinata turns a little pink. “Uhm, yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

I should be used to the word—we’ve been together for four years, going on five in a few months—but it still feels embarrassing to hear it out loud. I look between Hinata and Arata and I can’t help but feel a little pissed. It wasn’t a surprise that Hinata has lots of friends, but it still bothers me a little bit.

Instead of angering anyone, I simply say, “Nice to meet you.”

Hinata smiles without looking at me. “Wanna join us, Kageyama? We’re just off to buy some notebooks.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t bring a coat.”

Hinata makes a displeased face. “I’ll hold your hand! I’m really warm, see.”

He takes my hand in his and he _is_ warm. I see Arata trying not to stare too much, fixing his blue hair only for it to flop back into place. Hinata leans a little into me and I can’t refuse, not when he feels so nice and summery next to me in the middle of January. I go with them, Hinata taking up most of the conversation with Arata telling a few stories and me nodding. Hinata takes almost an hour trying to pick between a volleyball-themed notebook that was too small for notes and a normal one, and pouts when it’s two against one in favour of practicality.

Hinata recalls an old high school memory of Yachi Hitoka’s birthday and everyone buying her those flowers she really loved and her crying out of happiness. Arata smiles and says something, but I’m not really that focused on him when Hinata keeps making unnecessarily dramatic gestures and loud sound effects and although it’s almost enough to hurt my ears, I find myself appreciating the scene. His cheeks are a little flushed from the cold and he keeps moving the hand intertwined with mine around in conjunction to his other hand and it’s hard to look at anything else when he’s right there looking so happy and charming.

Hinata goes to pay and forces me to separate from him and stay with his friend for a few minutes. I find myself awkwardly looking at everything else but Arata who’s standing right next to me, probably not feeling as awkward as I am.

“I can see why Shouyou talks so much about you,” he says, a little uncertain, as if he’s afraid he might have overstepped some boundaries.

I nod, trying to get him to continue and also revelling a little in the fact that Hinata talks about me.

“You two...fit right.” He says. “He’s so much happier around you and the way you look at him...It’s like you’re each other’s air.”

I must have looked contemplative because he waves his arms. “U-uhm! I didn’t mean to—analyze your relationship!”

“It’s fine.” I say, recalling Hinata mentioning he made a friend who was majoring in literature  and liked to watch people closely. “Uh, what exactly does he say about me?”

He gives a small laugh. “I think you should ask him yourself.”

Hinata arrives then, seemingly pleased to see us talking. He takes my hand again as if it’s second nature and I take a few seconds to think about it and realize it kind of is. Arata smiles at us and we take a few minutes to get take out before saying goodbye to him. Hinata waves enthusiastically and Arata laughs as the red-head almost trips from walking backwards.

“He’s nice.” I say, once we’re a few minutes away.

Hinata looks at me as if I grew another head. “Did you just compliment another human being?”

I punch his arm. “Shut up. I just said he was nice.”

He laughs. “He wanted to meet you for a while now and here you were!”

“Why did he want to meet me?” I ask, mentally complimenting myself for steering the conversation the way I wanted it to go, something that I can’t really pull off that successfully most of the time.

“Oh, uhm, nothing. Just. Yeah.” He says, pretending to find the sky fascinating even though it’s covered with clouds.

“Hinata,” I say in the tone I always use when I want something.

“Okay, fine! Maybe I kind of talk about you...sometimes...er, all the time.” He says, blushing.

“What do you say?” I ask.

“Nothing! How you’re a jerk and are really weird about your milk,” He says.

“Hinata.” I say again.

“It’s embarrassing.” He mutters.

“Don’t care.” I reply.

“Ughhh. I don’t know.” He says. “Like maybe how I like that you always greet me good morning when you wake up and I don’t know, maybe how you always look really nice all the time, like a 24/7 five star restaurant and how you’re really stubborn when we’re on the couch and you just wrap your arms around me and go back to sleep. I don’t know!”

I allow myself a little smile at the thought of Hinata rambling about these things to his friends. I swoop down and press a quick kiss to his flushed cheek and go back to my previous position.

“Okay.” I say and I pretend not to see his big smile.

 

 

We’re at the most unromantic situation when I realize I want to be with Hinata forever and maybe even after. We had moved in our new apartment as official adults, knowing nothing about the real world, but remaining happy because we’re together. It has been two weeks since we arrived and we have not finished unpacking, too busy with finding jobs and lazing around and practicing two-on-two volleyball.  It is Hinata that marches into the living room where I’m sitting, about to fall asleep, and loudly lets a box onto the floor. It smells bad because, well, we are not really sure what to do about the smell and there’s a thin layer of dust on almost everything.

“We need to finish unpacking,” he announces. “I can’t find my bottle cap collection, so we have to finish unpacking!”

I stare at him. It is very Hinata to hold on to very unimportant pieces like bottle caps but at that moment, I just want to sleep so I wave my hand in the air, dismissing his request. He’s immediately on me, slapping his hands over my cheeks.

“What the hell, dumbass!?” I say in the exact volume I intended to. “I was going to sleep!”

“Get off your ass and help me!” He shouts, louder than me.

“Ughhh.” I mutter, trying to push him off.

“Kageya _maaaaa_ , don’t you _love_ meeeee? Shouldn’t you be more helpful to the one you _love_?” He whines, using the tactic he always uses when he’s desperate.

“Don’t _you_ love _me?_ Shouldn’t you just let me fucking rest?”

“It doesn’t work that way! Gaaaah!! I’m the only one allowed to use that line!” He says, pulling at random places on my face.

“Ugh, fine. Okay. I’ll help you,” I say, telling myself that it was only to stop him from making those annoying sounds.

We spend the rest of the morning finding things to put things in, a feat that is more difficult than it sounds because our apartment isn’t very big. It’s when we unpack the last box, some volleyball magazines and a few novels I like, that I realize that I want Hinata to be a constant in my life. He is slightly sweating, his hair looking a little flatter than usual, but his eyes are glinting at me and he has a lazy smile on his face. I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to put words into this mellow feeling in my heart. He raises his eyebrows at me.

“You’re making a weird face again,” he says. “Did you just find out the way to beat everyone in volleyball?”

I shake my head and take his hand, leading him to the couch. The box is still there, but I honestly don’t feel like putting away a box after such a pleasant realization. We lay there, our noses together and our knees in comfortable positions. He doesn’t complain about the box either which is a good sign. I close my eyes and inhale, feeling the way his body curves against mine, wondering when it started being second nature to hold him against me like this. Hinata kisses my cheek, a different kiss from when we graduated. That was hard and salty with tears, fire in the valley. This was smooth-sailing, a boat in a calm sea.

“Love you,” he says with his words.

 _‘I love you too,’_ I say with the way I wrap my arms around his back and bury my face in his warmth.

 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it!” I tell him, walking out of the restaurant with Hinata jogging to meet my pace.

“I don’t know! I never tried it before okay!” He yells.

I don’t think I’ll be able to get even ten kilometres from this restaurant without dying of embarrassment ever again. Tonight was a disaster brought by good intentions but horrible execution. Hinata Shouyou had proposed to me.

He also set fire to half of the restaurant leading to getting us both kicked out and banned forever. I can’t help but hide my face in my hands every time I recall it.

“Hinata, you asked them to include a _flaming plate_ with the ring—“

He butted in. “I thought it was romantic!”

“And then you proceeded to knock over not only the plate and not only the volleyball-shaped candle lit meal, but also at least three waiters and their trays and _everything on their trays_ including _another_ flaming dish and basically burned down half of the restaurant!”

“Okay, it sounds bad when you word it that way,” he says, getting in the car.

“IT SOUNDS BAD BECAUSE IT WAS BAD!” I say.

“Okay! I already said I’m sorry!” He mutters.

I sigh loudly. “Jesus Christ, Hinata. I never thought anyone could ruin a proposal so bad.”

He smiles sheepishly. “You never did answer though. You were just shouting.”

“Oh, well maybe my shouting had something to do with the fact that _our table was on fire_.” I say, but my voice doesn’t have any bite in it.

“Okay, whatever, so maybe I did burn down a big part of a restaurant so what?” He says. “Will you marry me though? I think that’s the bigger priority right now.”

“Dumbass.” I say. “Even though that was a disaster and I’m sure they’re going to call me demanding for some sort of payment for ruining their establishment by morning and even though you’re so stupid to think that I would prefer a big event of dinner and flaming plates over a homemade meal of nachos and lasagne, okay I guess I’ll marry you.”

“Okay good, cause I have a spare ring.” He laughs, taking out a small box from his pocket.

I stare at him, Hinata who laughed off the tragedy of the night and Hinata who somehow predicted that he’d lose the ring in _some_ way and so kept another one—I am amazed.

He smiles sheepishly in the crinkled blazer and slacks that don’t match his shirt that he probably thought was the most apropos for the situation. The box opens with a small pop and there is a thin engagement ring inside. He slips it on my ring finger quietly and looks at it, holding my hand in both of his. He looks up and I’m not sure what to call the expression on his face, but I’m not unfamiliar with it, having felt it on my own face numerous times.

“You do know what marriage implies right,” he says more as a statement than a question.

“Yeah.” I say.

“It’s for forever, okay? You can’t leave.” He says like it’s a threat.

“I know, idiot. I have no intention to.” I say and he exhales.

I drive us home, talking about how Kenma or Daichi will react when we tell them what happened, and then laughing at their hypothetical horrified faces. The ring doesn’t feel unfamiliar on my finger, like Hinata in my life, just right. When we arrive home, I don’t stop the smile on my face from the happiness bubbling in my stomach when he nonchalantly calls me his fiancé. He then forces me to carry him on my back inside the house and I roll my eyes at him, but comply anyway. I don’t complain even when he accidentally kicks my side.

Later, I take the tiny dark box hidden in our dresser and ask him the same question he asked me a few hours before, something I have been worrying over for the past few months. He cries and I do too, emotions spilling out now that there were no burning tables or screaming waiters distracting us.

 

Hinata scrunches his face at the paper in front of him and I don’t blame him. We have been trying to plan our wedding for the past few days and because we’re completely clueless and our only reference for gay weddings is Daichi and Suga’s beautiful formal one a few years ago—which is way out of our league both financially and personality-wise—we haven’t really been making much progress. I close my tab, a search for “Not Cheesy Wedding Invitation Ideas,” just as Hinata sighs loudly.

“Are we going to have a bachelor’s party?” He asks, slightly crumpling the paper he’s writing on.

“Hinata, we’re both guys. How is that going to work?” I say rolling my eyes.

“I don’t know. Like we can have dinner—or something.”

It occurs to me that he probably has no idea what a bachelor’s party is, but instead of pointing that out, I say, “We can do that without calling it a bachelor’s party, idiot.”

“Why are you so rude to me, Bakageyama??” He shouts. “Just buy me dinner!”

“You could have just asked me in the first place, dumbass.” I sigh.

He smiles, bright and sunny, and bumps my shoulder with his. “I like you a lot.”

“You’re fine,” I reply.

He whines, taking up more space on the couch, his upper body on me. I wrap my right arm around his waist and he continues to complain. I quiet his mouth by pressing mine against it and he makes a small squeak expressing his objection but eventually closes his eyes and relaxes against me. I pull him closer, his body almost fully on top of me now, and he wraps his arms around my neck. We move together, a sensual slow dance we had perfected after years of stumbling.

“Oh my God.” He says when he pulls away. “We’re engaged. We’re going to get married. Oh my God, Kageyama, we’re going to be married at one point!”

“Yeah.” I say an easy smile on my face.

“Fuck.” He continues, raising my left hand with his, the ones with the glinting rings. “Fuck.”

His eyes are wide and his shoulders are tense. It reminds me of how he acts when we have a big game.

“Calm down, idiot.” I say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Nothing’s going to change except the law will just recognize us.”

“That is so unromantic. It’s more than that! Ceremony, house, children—“ He stops, then asks, a little more unsurely. “Children?”

I shrug, but that doesn’t seem to appease him. He mulls it over out loud, how he remembers taking care of Natsu—an energetic teenager now—and how much education will cost and all the hypothetical worries that parade his mind.

“Hey,” I say, pinching his face. “We don’t have to decide right now, dumbass. Just think about it. Don’t panic.”

He stares, then nods. “I’m just...nervous, I guess. I’ve never done this before.”

“Isn’t that the beauty of it?” I say. “We have no idea what we’re doing, but we want it anyway.”

He makes an appreciative hum. “I have you. It’s going to be alright, because I have you.”

I nod and he says, “And you have me.” and I nod again.

He relaxes against me, making a small ‘mmm’ sound. I remind him that we have to finish the guest list, kicking him lightly, and he groans. I kick him harder and he mutters an ‘yeah, yeah, I’m getting up’ but before he gets up, he looks up at me and runs his hand through my hair. I think, the only thing that really matters is that we’re together—not the quality of the invitations or the niceness of the venue or even the appropriateness of the theme. I think, as long as we’re together, everything is good.

 

“Okay, when I proposed, I didn’t think about how much it would cost.” Hinata says, rolling on the floor.

“Sit still like a normal person, dumbass.” I say, trying to make sense of the papers in my hands. “I don’t think you think about much stuff anyway, so don’t worry about meeting expectations.”

“Rude!!!” Hinata shouts as he tackles me.

We crash to the floor, much to my dismay. I’m glad I don’t have my mug of hot chocolate anymore as I did five minutes ago, but I’m not glad that Hinata can take me in his clutches so easily. Had we been in high school, I would have made no hesitation in kicking him and leaving. Now though, we’re more than halfway through our twenties and are actually _getting married_ , supposedly a big mark of adulthood. I ponder on this as I watch my fiancé wearing a big juvenile grin not unlike a child about to steal his classmate’s favorite toy and scoff at the thought that Hinata could grow up.

“What are you doing?” I say, trying to break away from his grip.

“Punishment!!” He declares, fingers digging into my side, right where he _knew_ I was ticklish.

“Hinata—sto—oh my god—“ I say between loud heaves that are currently the only things preventing me from bursting out in laughter at this torture.

“Say _‘Hinata is the best person in the world and is also very handsome_ ’ or endure the attack for the long term!”

“Jesus C—Hinata, stop!” I try to say but it ends up a jumble of words mixed with spastic mirth.

“Nooo you gotta say it!!! It’s the only waaay!!” He says, laughing along with me, except I’m laughing because of the tickling and he’s laughing at my _pain_. “Just do it, Kageyama and I’ll free you!”

“N-No way in hell!” I manage to say before attempting to roll away to try to get away from his clutches.

I vaguely register footsteps toward us before I notice the absence of moving fingers against my sides. I take a few moments to catch my breath. I see Hinata looking up and I follow his gaze. Yachi Hitoka is standing a few feet from us, just staring and seeming to be in the edge of a giggle. I look again at Hinata and he has my legs trapped under his body and his hands still on my stomach.

“Hello,” Yachi says, releasing a small laugh.

Hinata is off me in less than five seconds, up and blushing. “Hitoka!”

“I called your phone, but you weren’t answering, so I just decided to drop by. Also the door was open.” She says, a scolding tone in her voice.

“Idiot, I told you to lock the door earlier!” I say, sitting up.

“I _thought_ I did! Don’t call me an idiot when you were right under me a few minutes ago!” He shouts back.

“Guys, calm down,” Yachi says, sighing. “I knew you’d have some trouble with all the planning, so I’m here to help!”

Hinata cheers. I stand up and ask her if she’d like some food and she waves her hand, saying something about how it’s alright and how we probably only have potato chips and soda and milk anyway. I look down, unable to deny it. She laughs and it reminds me of old times, when we were younger and everything was dedicated to volleyball. Well, a big part of my life is still dedicated to volleyball, having gone to the Olympics two times so far (no wins though _yet_ ), but a lot of things have changed. I look over to Hinata who’s trying to arrange the things on the table so Yachi can make sense of it and walk over.

“Okay, so here are some of the layout things for the invitations and—uh, oh! Possible venues right here. Oh, I don’t know what this is, but it has yen on it so it’s probably the cost for something...” Hinata is saying, pointing out a few areas as Yachi has a look on her face that says, _‘Ah just as I expected. These two have no idea what they’re doing_.’

I say. “I think that’s the estimates for the, uh—“

“The flowers, shit!” Hinata continues for me. “Oh _nooo_ why is everything so expensive?”

Yachi laughs. “It’s okay, Shou. We’ll work it out, alright?”

Hinata frowns, but nods. It all feels surreal, planning everything and planning again in case of every emergency imaginable, no matter how unlikely. It’s nowhere near easy, but I know that I wouldn’t really mind anything as long as Hinata’s there. We could have a wedding mirroring the really bad tragedy of a proposal he gave a while ago and it would be fine, because I’m with Hinata and in the end, that’s all that really matters.

 

“Kageyama,” He calls from the living room.

I’m too lazy to get up from my chair so I just tell him to come here instead. He walks over, cradling the laptop in his hand. He has a face of pleasant surprise, subdued sprinkles of sunbeams on a cloudy day, as he shows me an e-mail.

I stop reading as soon as I see ‘Yuko is now legally your daughter—“ because my mind is reeling. Hinata seems to be in the same temperament. He taps his fingers absentmindedly on the table.

“We’re dads,” He says.

I nod at him, astonished at the information myself. It’s true that we have been talking and filling up forms for exactly this purpose for the last few months, but now that it’s here, it seems so surreal. Hinata makes a weird high-pitched sound that makes him sound like he’s being strangled. I take him in my arms, revelling in how quickly our breathings fall in line.

“Should I start calling you daddy now?” He says and I know he’s not referring to the joys of fatherhood, but something much less innocent.

“ _You’re_ daddy. I’m Papa,” I say unruffled.

“Papa’s so not kinky though.” He says and I hit him. “ _Ah_ , daddy!”

I feel the warmth rise up my face. “You’re ridiculous. I need to get work done.”

“Just one round.” He says, looking straight at me with lidded eyes. “Come on, daddy.”

The word has its intended effect on me and Hinata knows it. He laughs as I follow him to the bedroom.

A while—and definitely _not_ just one round— later, we sit all cuddly with our legs tangled in a comfortable mess while I try to reply to the adoption service. Hinata intentionally flutters his eyelashes against my jaw. I know it’s intentional because he laughs as I push his face away.

“How about ‘We were so happy we had sex right after!’” Hinata suggests, a smug smile on his face.

“Dumbass, shut up.” I say, and he waggles his eyebrows at me in response. “It says we can pick her up the day after tomorrow, but we can already visit her today.”

“WHAT!” Hinata exclaims, unconsciously raising his legs but they only shift since they’re jumbled with mine. “We can go!?”

I understand his excitement though. “Yeah.”

He struggles to get up. I laugh as he flops back down, defeated. I separate from him so we can put on some clothes and visit our daughter. The thought alone makes me happy. I send a quick e-mail to the service to inform them that we’ll be there in a bit and walk over to Hinata who is trying to put on pants while sitting down. He notices me staring at his butt and sends me a look that says ‘kageyama pls u _just_ ruined my ass’ and I shove him aside to get a shirt from the closet.

I have to admit though that he’s not the only one excited when we arrive and get to see our two year old child as our legal child now. Even though the process is entirely legal, it grasps in something in me and I don’t hide the tears in my face as I gently caress the sleeping child’s cheek. Hinata has been crying for a while now and the foster mother smiles at us from the doorway. I look up at her gratefully and am not able to form words, but she seems to understand as she nods.

My heart seems to make room for little Yuko at that moment, expanding so much that I fear it’s going to burst. Hinata clenches his chest beside me and I imagine he’s feeling something similar, like the world seems so bright all of a sudden and that maybe the sun wasn’t a ball of gas but a visual representation of my feelings, bright and almost blinding. He intertwines our hands and I breathe out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

 

The trees are quiet, as if hiding a secret. I sit quietly with Hinata, just looking around. He’s uncharacteristically silent and all I can hear are a few birds singing to each other and our slow breaths against the temperate air. I turn my head to see him better. The canopy of trees dots his skin with sunlight and he looks like he’s shining, like the world has finally caught on to the fact that Hinata Shouyou has all the brightness of the sun inside him. His eyes are closed but I know he’s awake.

“Yuko might be awake,” I whisper to him, afraid to break the spell.                  

He doesn’t open his eyes. “I was just thinking.”

“Woah, you can do that?” I say, liking the way his scent of oranges was mixing with the scent of the trees.

He opens his eyes and punches my arm. “Dumbass! I was trying to make the ambiance romantic! Or magical or something.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I married you.” He says. “Five years huh.”

I’m aware of the date. Five years ago at the same day, we stumbled over each other in front of everyone that matters to us and somehow came out of the chapel as married men. I remember not caring if my nose was full of snot from crying at Daichi’s speech and I remember looking beside me to see Hinata letting waterfalls of tears falling from his eyes. I remember the tender emotion I felt at that moment, knowing that I’d never regret that day.

I nod. “I think I deserve a medal for putting up with you for so long.”

There is a small clump of dandelions near our feet. They sway with the soft wind.

“You? I should be the one being given a medal!” He says, sitting up a little more indignantly. “You buy milk like two hundred times a week and keep stealing Yuko from me and always make _me_ cook the waffles!”

“You let Yuko play in the mud! You even _encourage_ her!” I counter, not wanting to admit that he makes the best waffles.

“You’re just a poop head that doesn’t let our daughter explore the beauty of dirt!”

“It’s dirt for a reason! Because it’s dirty!!”

Hinata opens his mouth to retaliate then seems to think about the situation for a moment before bursting into a big burst of laughter. I stare at him incredulously for a little and then I find myself catching his giggles, unable to stop. We sit laughing there for a while, on the cool grass surrounded by big trees. He pretends to lean in to kiss me and then blows a raspberry near my face, spraying my cheeks with his saliva.

“You’re gross.” I say, smiling a little. “You got saliva on my face.”

Age has melted my resolve a little. Or maybe it’s Hinata and his spontaneity and his beautiful waking face and his compassionate smiles and endless support. Or maybe it’s our lovely daughter Yuko. We might have adopted her, but I feel like she chose us first, worming into our hearts and infecting us with her charm so fast, possibly the only thing faster than our world record fastest quick. Or maybe it’s everything, all at once.

“You don’t seem to mind it when it’s on your dick though,” He says.

“ _Nasty_.”

“ _You_ married me,” He says.

 “Yeah well, you married me back.” I say as if marriage was a fight that had to be avenged.

“Yeah.” He says, standing up, offering me his hand.

I take it, revelling in how I have had every bump and crevice in it memorized for a while now. He smiles at me and I crouch down to kiss him. He hasn’t grown at all, after all these years and it’s more difficult to find ways to kiss, especially now that we’re not young as we want to be. I can feel his sigh through his chest, all contentment and quiet joy and I rub my finger over his right hand, right where his wedding ring is, knowing that deep down I don’t really mind the height difference as long as it’s Hinata. I pull away, looking back at him, so different, but at the same time, still the same, still my Hinata.

“I love you,” I say it first.

He notices and I can see it in that extra glitter in his eyes. “I love you too.”

He closes his eyes for a second and opens it to look up toward the sun, shown in a small opening between two willow trees, and I follow his stare. It doesn’t look as bright from where we were. It is just a big bright ball up there, but I start to think about how it has watched us grow from impulsive hot-blooded first year highschoolers to even more hot-blooded volatile adults, now with wedding rings and a child. I look at those memories juxtaposed against the sun and it seems to go brighter, as if our existence gave it more purpose, more brightness to its motivation.

I look at Hinata the same time he turns his head toward me, both surprised at our synchronization. I smile. He smiles.

And then we walk back home, probably to find our daughter eating too much candy or making yet another fictional world out of shoeboxes and pillows.

I think, I could get used to this. I think, this is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> -Arata means “fresh, new”  
> -I like to imagine Suga and Daichi’s wedding looking all formal and official, but the moment the dance floor opens, they try to beat each other in a dance off and they’re both terrible and are dorks but they laugh so much that it doesn’t even matter. Hinata is surprisingly good at dancing (having had accidentally got in a dance class in his third year of college and never talked about it so Kageyama just assumed he’s just as bad as him) and laughs as Kageyama stares exasperated as Hinata shows off his moves. (now that i think about this i kind of wanna write it welp we’ll see)  
> -All my wedding info is based on mostly American tv shows and I did some research on japanese weddings but I am pretty sure I made some mistakes, so I apologize for that. This is in a world where gay marriage is legal in Japan (which is soon I hope) so yay pride!!!  
> -Yuko, their adopted child, is named after Yuko Arakida, a women’s volleyball player part of the team that won the last gold medal at the Olympics for women’s volleyball in 1976. “She is now Chairwoman of Athlete's Committee of the Olympic Council of Asia (OCA).” --https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuko_Arakida (they’re still volleyball nerds as dads don’t worry yuko is 4 but she already has at least 3 child-sized soft volleyball stuffed toys)  
> -Also I’m pretty sure Hinata is jealous of Kageyama’s milk. Milk is mentioned at least seventeen times in this story. Their lack of vulgar vocabulary in the last part is totally not influenced by yuko’s inability to properly insult anyone, the beautiful child. (except the obligatory sex joke lmaoOOooOOoOO)  
> -They keep their last names cause they’re famous volleyball stars now obv (but don’t pretend hinata doesn’t call kageyama “mr hinata” at least 5 times a week)


End file.
